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caffeinewitchcraft · 8 months ago

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The Hero and Hope

Based off a world where everyone gets a Destiny they must fulfill. Bakers and Demon Kings (x) and Villagers (X). You? You are a Hero.

----------------

You are a Hero.

Nobody at the orphanage knows. The mark sets during the worst winter in three decades, when the windows have to be barred to prevent snow spirits from ripping them to shreds and the Director takes half the reserves and runs in the middle of the night.

Sarah, the only caregiver left in the rickety building, holds as many of the kids as she can while the snow spirits scream outside. You’d love to be in the circle of her arms, but you’re holding the door shut with as much strength as your eight-year-old arms allow.

She doesn’t tell you to get away from the door.

“It’s alright,” she says, voice trembling. Her brown hair, matted from the months indoors, hides her eyes. She croons to the younger kids like a bird, so softly and gently that you have to strain to hear it over the howling demons and roaring winds. “We’ll be okay. Our land’s Lord will send a Hero, you’ll see. We’ll be okay then.”

Your arms burn as intensely as your eyes. A Hero. Your stomach aches from hunger and your fingers sting from the cold. You aren’t sure how much good you’re doing keeping the door closed, but there’s something deep inside of you that tells you you must do something. The blows from the snow spirits outside vibrate up your arms, nearly throwing you back.

Heroes, you think, only matter if they show up.

Hope is traumatic. Eight-years-old and you’ve been returned from potential families twice. Three days ago, you found the beginnings of greenery in the woods behind the orphanage. When you excitedly raced back to tell the others that winter was ending, it was only to find the Director and most of the caregivers gone with a significant portion of the rations.

Then the storm clouds rolled in.

So that long, dangerous night, you don’t hope. You shut your ears to Sarah’s gentle comforts and the snow spirits’ shrieks. You focus on the burning in your arms, the blisters forming on your heels, the cold nipping at your fingers.

Hope is traumatic but trying is something you can do. You put your small body between all of the horrors outside the door and the other kids. You try to stand firm.

You don’t notice when the burning in your arms hides the arrival of a telling mark on your left bicep.

---------------------.

You are fourteen years old, one year shy of coming into your power, when a couple visits the orphanage intending to adopt.

Sarah is now the Director of the orphanage, awarded the position by the land’s Lord after that terrible winter six years ago. She’s different than she was then. You lost three kids to hunger before spring finally came and she held each one in their last moments.

You and Sarah never develop the close relationship she has with the other kids. But she always makes sure you have more meat in your meals than most and, when you hunt in the woods, you always let her decide how the food will be divided between dinner and winter stores.

“We’re Knights,” the potential adopters tell the Director. They’re a couple, a man and a woman with dark hair and muscular bodies. “Retired. We’re settling just north of here for good and are looking for a suitable child who can follow in our footsteps.”

Director Sarah looks at them coldly, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands over her stomach. If she notices you and two of the younger kids peeking through the crack in the door, she doesn’t say anything. “I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Bahr, but it seems there’s a misunderstanding. We do not pair children with families based on their Destiny.”

“We’re not saying you do,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her gaze is cutting though her shoulders are relaxed. “Our Lord explained before we came. However, there is no rule against asking the children their Destiny, is there?”

Loophole. You pull away from the crack in the door, letting Hera and Josiah take your spot. You lean against the wall with your eyes closed. Orphanages aren’t allowed to disclose Destinies, but that’s where the protection ends. If someone sees a child’s Destiny or learns of it through some other means, that’s alright.

These people aren’t here to adopt because they want a child. They’re here to adopt for a guarantee. A guarantee of what remains to be seen. An heir like they claim? A prodigy for status? Or a weapon for them to control?

You listen for any other clues behind their motives, but the Bahrs don’t push the issue of Destiny again. They accept Director Sarah’s schedule for meeting the kids, even offering to host a picnic day at their estate as a treat. The couple wants to gain trust, you can tell, and by the end of the meeting it’s working.

Director Sarah sees them off to the door herself.

“We’ll wait for the invitation,” she says. She’s older now, her thin brown hair showing the beginning signs of going grey. But her handshake looks strong when she shakes Mrs. Bahr’s in farewell. “I’m sure the children will be thrilled.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her husband nods to the Director gravely, but Mrs. Bahr lingers. “I’m sorry if we came off a little…forward when we mentioned Destinies. Please believe me when I say that my husband and I aren’t so shallow. We are looking for a child – one we can call our own.”

“I see,” Director Sarah says. There’s a hint of warmth in her voice. “As I said, we look forward to your invitation.”

Mrs. Bahr nods and joins her husband in their carriage. They set off down the road without once having asked to meet one of the children on the first day of their introduction.

You can tell Sarah likes them.

“What do you think?” Sarah asks. She doesn’t turn from the road, even though the Bahr’s carriage is out of sight. “Isla?”

You don’t ask how she knows it’s you lurking in the shadows of the orphanage. Director Sarah is a Guardian. Her senses are elevated when it comes to those under her charge.

“I don’t think anything,” you say. You step out from around the corner with a sigh. No use hiding now. “They’re influential people if they were recommended here by the Lord himself. We’re fortunate.”

“You’re the right age for a Knight’s apprenticeship,” Sarah says.

“Hera hasn’t shown me her Destiny, but it’s probably something suitable,” you say. Hera is ten, one of the older kids at the orphanage. Last summer she lifted Josiah, only a year younger than her and already a head taller, out of the well before he could drown. “You should talk to her about what being part of a Knight family could mean.”

Sarah looks at you over her shoulder. The setting sun catches in her eyes, turning the warm brown into an unearthly amber. “I hope you can accept the possibility they might choose you.”

They won’t. “Aren’t I needed here?” you ask.

Sarah’s expression softens. “You are, Isla,” she says. She weighs her next words carefully. “But I am the one who’s responsible for all of you. I can take care of everyone. If the Bahr family is a good fit…”

“Sure,” you say flippantly. You shove your hands in your pockets and slink back into the orphanage. You don’t dare hope. “I’m going to help Josiah.” He’s on dinner duty tonight. He always cuts the onions too roughly. “See you later.”

You feel Sarah’s eyes on your back like a physical warmth.

-----------.

Being a Hero doesn’t change anything about you. You expected it to when you first noticed the mark but, even six years later, nothing’s different.

You aren’t kinder. When Josiah asks for your dessert, you steal a bit of his as punishment for even asking. When Hera asks for a bedtime story, you tell her one so scary that she has to sleep with one of the other girls. When Sarah asks you to fix the fence around the chickens, you whine and complain that you’re the only one who does anything around the orphanage.

“The curse of being the oldest,” Sarah says dryly. She hands you a hammer and a bucketful of nails. “Some posts were dropped off at the end of the lane. Make sure you’re back by sunset.”

Maybe you’re a little stronger than others. You can drag three posts at once and could probably drag more if you wanted. But another curse of being a Hero is that you’re very aware.

It’s not until you’re nailing a third rail to the fence that Mr. Bahr makes his presence known. You don’t turn even when he makes his steps purposefully heavy to avoid scaring you.

“You’re very strong,” Mr. Bahr says.

His shadow is long and thin, just like him. You observe it from your peripherals, unable to speak with the two nails you’re holding between your lips. You take your time pounding them into the wood. He’s arms, a sword at his hip, but his hands are loose at his sides.

“Good thing I am,” you say at last. You stand and turn in the same motion. He waited for you to finish without chastising you for not speaking right away. You perch the hammer on your shoulder. “Otherwise, the chickens would take over.”

Mr. Bahr laughs. Unlike when he was meeting Director Sarah, his face is relaxed and open. His blue eyes sparkle. “We couldn’t have that now, could we? I suppose we all owe you our thanks for preventing the coop’s coup.”

You want to laugh. You don’t. “Director Sarah won’t like you being here uninvited.”

“I just came to drop off an invitation,” Mr. Bahr says. He studies you for a moment and then smiles. “I hope you’ll accept, Isla.”

A chill races down your spine. How does he know your name? You wipe the sweat from your brow with a scowl. “Maybe I don’t want to be adopted.”

To your surprise, Mr. Bahr nods. “I can understand that,” he says. He looks up at the sky. The light is sliding from the sky, catching on the clouds and turning them a brilliant orange. When he looks back at you, he almost looks…sad. “Think of our invitation as a party, hm? No strings attached.”

For some reason your tongue feels heavy. It takes two tries before you can say, “I need to fix this part of the fence before dark.”

“Want some help?” Mr. Bahr asks.

“I couldn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Mr. Bahr says. He rolls up his sleeves and nimbly plucks the hammer from your grip. “I may be a Knight, but I’ve done my fair share of carpentry. Let me show you a few tricks.”

You listen quietly as Mr. Bahr shows you how to twist the nails to avoid splitting the wood. What would have taken you an hour to finish, he accomplishes in a quarter of one, talking to you the entire time.

It’s…odd to have an adult’s attention on you for such a long time. He’s careful not to get too close, always offering you the hammer to practice by setting it on the grass between you rather than handing it to you directly. When you manage to replicate his technique on your second try, Mr. Bahr is more excited than you are.

“Wonderful,” he compliments. He glances up at the sky. The first stars are twinkling. “I’ll be going now and you should too. Have a good night, Isla.”

Unlike the first time he said your name, it feels pleasant now. You mutter a goodbye and leave before he does, scurrying towards the orphanage with your bucket of nails clutched to your chest.

He’s gone when you think to check the road for his carriage. Did he walk here? Ride a horse?

You close and lock the orphanage’s doors behind you.

----------------.

The picnic isn’t scheduled until the middle of summer and it’s spring now. Still, it’s all anyone can talk about.

“We have plenty of time to get ready,” Director Sarah tells them. “The Bahrs will be dropping in from time to time until then. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior when they’re here.”

Josiah raises his hand. “I hear they live in a castle!”

“A manor,” Sarah corrects. “Given to them by our Lord for their years of service.”

“The Guard in town says they worked for the King once!” Hera says, wiggling in her seat. “Is that true?”

“You can ask them yourself,” Sarah says. She claps her hands together and starts urging the kids up. “It’s time for chores. Your assignment is posted by the kitchen…”

You stay seated at the breakfast table. You haven’t eaten your third egg or your last slice of toast. Your stomach feels queasy. You keep thinking about Mr. Bahr saying wonderful when you worked on the fence together.

You aren’t supposed to want to be adopted. You’ve had your chance and you ruined it both times. It’s not fair of you to imagine what it would be like learning swordsmanship from Mr. Bahr and what it’d be like to hear him praise you when you got the next move right. One of the other kids deserve that chance.

You can only do what you can do.

---------------.

Mrs. Bahr is alone the next visit.

No one recognizes her at first. She’s wearing a gown like a noble and her hair is gently flowing down her back rather than tightly pinned behind her head.

“I’ve received the Director’s permission to hold a lesson on writing,” she tells the children. She gestures to the bag she’s set on the table. ��Come get a slate and a piece of chalk. We will work all together.”

The kids have never had slate and chalk before, not the real ones anyway. Sometimes you find a nice, flat rock they can draw on with charcoal, but it’s not as entertaining as what Mrs. Bahr brings. She watches everyone in amusement as they immediately start drawing instead of starting the lesson, flower and trees and swords.

“Look, Isla,” Hera says, tugging at your sleeve. You’re seated on the spare chair by the wall, away from the table. She twists from her spot to show you she’s drawn a shaky stick figure. “It’s you!”

Your eyes flick up to Mrs. Bahr. She’s not irritated by the distractions yet. You point with your bit of chalk at the drawing. “Which part of it is me?”

Hera points at a blob in the stick figure’s hand. “That’s the horned rabbit you brought home yesterday!”

You snort. The horned rabbit you’d killed yesterday wasn’t half the size of your body. “Are you sure that’s a horned rabbit? Looks like a turtle to me.”

Hera points to the stick figure’s face. “You can also tell it’s you ‘cause you’re frowning.”

“Hey!”

Mrs. Bahr claps her hands together. Instantly, she has the room’s attention. “I’m glad you all like my present. However, it’s time to get started.”

“Present?” Josiah asks.

“If you work hard today, you will be allowed to keep the slate and chalk as a present,” Mrs. Bahr says. She takes care to make eye contact with every kid. “Only those who work hard.”

It’s generous. You watch Mrs. Bahr from under your lashes as she talks everyone through writing the alphabet. It’s too generous not to be genuine. Try as you might, you can’t figure out any ulterior motive to spending so much on the kids. To look good? For who? For Director Sarah?

Director Sarah won’t be swayed by gifts like this even if the kids could be.

Mrs. Bahr stops well away from you, observing your slate from afar. “Very good, Isla. Do you know how to write?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Read?”

“Only a little.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. She doesn’t look disgusted by your stupidity or put off by your clipped tone. Your first family returned you when you told them. Mrs. Bahr’s lips curve. “Your letters are wonderfully steady. I can tell you will be a very good student.”

She turns before she can see you flush.

---------.

Over the next few months, there isn’t a week that goes by without at least one of the Bahrs visiting. They become a regularity around the orphanage to the point that even Director Sarah stops worrying about the state of their rooms with every visit.

“Kids will be kids,” Mrs. Bahr says when you ask her to wait while you tidy the toys in the parlor. “It’s alright, Isla.”

Your head spins. Sometimes, when one of them says something particularly bizarre, you feel like you’re outside your body. There was a time when they didn’t have toys to leave out in the visiting area. Thanks to the Bahrs, every child has a doll, a slate, a new set of shoes, and an abacus. You are still waiting for the strings that come with these presents.

There haven’t been any yet.

The kids love the Bahrs. Hera insists on baking fresh strawberry tarts for them after a day of gathering. Josiah carefully sounds out passages from their new books to show them that he’s still practicing his letters. Annie and a group of the younger kids spend all day weaving a flower crown for Mrs. Bahr that you have to confiscate before they can put it on her head.

“Go wash your hands,” you scold. Despite your tone, your hands are gentle as you push Annie to the schoolhouse. “Don’t touch your eyes.”

Annie blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know it was poison, lady, I swear.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Bahr says, hand fluttering over her heart. She steps towards Annie. “Dear one—”

You give full body flinch when Mrs. Bahr stoops to hug Annie, but you don’t get between them. The Bahrs have won your trust in this. They won’t hurt the kids.

You sigh to hide your flinch when Mrs. Bahr stands. “Now Mrs. Bahr needs to wash. Poison ivy is no joke.”

“It is not,” Mrs. Bahr agrees. She ruffles Annie’s hair. “Go on, do as Isla says. Wash up.”

“We can go together,” Annie says with her big, blue eyes. She reaches for Mrs. Bahr’s hand and then thinks better of it. She tucks her hands behind her back and kicks at the ground. “If you want.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Mrs. Bahr says, smiling.

Annie nods and races to follow her friends.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as Annie is out of ear shot. You busy yourself picking up the fallen flower crown and the various trimmings of poison ivy they’d used for foliage throughout it. You feel flustered. “They really didn’t know any better—”

“I know,” Mrs. Bahr says so gently that you have to look up at her. She’s frowning at your hands. “I’m more concerned about you. Should you be holding onto it like that?’

“I’m immune,” you say. You’re not worried that she’ll guess your Destiny from that. Lots of Villagers are immune to poison ivy, particularly the ones in this region who rely on gathering and hunting. “Since I’m in the woods so much.”

“Knights are immune too,” Mrs. Bahr says. She follows you away from the orphanage and to the tree line. “You’re quite the hunter, aren’t you? I remember Hera saying you slayed a horned rabbit.”

Heat comes to your face. You stomp ahead of her to deposit the flower crown in some denser foliage where the kids won’t be able to get it. “I get lucky.”

“I’d consider it unlucky to run across a horned rabbit,” Mrs. Bahr says. She examines the forest with interest. “A demon is a demon. Even adults have difficulty with horned rabbits.”

It hadn’t been difficult. You’d been armed with a sharpened branch and, when the rabbit leapt for you, you knew right when to stab. You clear your throat. “It was difficult.” Then when Mrs. Bahr doesn’t say anything, you add, “It was frightening.”

She believes you. She lays a gentle hand on your shoulder to get you to look her in the face. “The orphanage budget is enough that you don’t need to hunt, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I know I don’t like the idea of a fourteen-year-old out here alone and unarmed.”

“Almost fifteen,” you say, “and I had a sharp stick.”

“A sharp sti—” Mrs. Bahr cuts herself off with a deep breath. “Regardless of your…aptitude, Isla, it’s dangerous. I’ve spoken to the Director and she agrees with me. You aren’t to go hunting anymore.”

The forest suddenly feels too hot. The leaves overhead rustle, but you can barely hear it over the roaring of your blood. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Bahr steps closer. “You’re a very strong girl, Isla, but it’s dangerous. If you want to go out with me or Mr. Bahr—”

You shake off her hand. “The Director agreed with you? She said I’m not allowed to go hunting anymore?”

“Out of concern for your safety.” Mrs. Bahr looks like she regrets saying anything. “Once Mr. Bahr and I explained to her what a risk a horned rabbit poses—”

You run away. Mrs. Bahr calls out after you, but you don’t stop. Beyond the sting of Mr. and Mrs. Bahr not thinking you strong enough to hunt, there’s a deeper hurt. The Director agrees. Really? Really?

“Isla? What’s wrong? I thought you were with Mrs. Bahr,” Director Sarah says when you burst into her office. She sets the papers she’d been reading down and frowns. “You look—”

“I’m not supposed to go hunting anymore?” you ask.

Sarah’s face blooms in understanding. “After what Mr. and Mrs. Bahr said about the increase in demons in the area, I agreed—”

“It’s summer,” you interrupt. You stalk up to her desk, your fists balled at your side. “It’s time to hunt.”

“The Bahrs have agreed to accompany you—”

“They only come once a week,” you say. You’re being so incredibly rude to the Director, but you don’t care. “I need to hunt three times that at least. The game has been moving deeper into the forest—”

“Where you are not allowed to go,” Director Sarah says, this time interrupting you. She steeples her hands in front of her. “I should have curtailed this activity long before this point, but I thought you needed it.”

“We need it,” you say. You can’t believe what you are hearing. “We need to store up rations, you know that.”

“Our budget allows us to purchase rations in town.”

“But what if that’s not enough? It’s better to have our own supply—”

“It will be enough.”

“It still doesn’t hurt to have some extra jerky—”

“The store we have will be enough.”

“But what if it’s not?!” You’ve raised your voice without realizing it, fists shaking at your sides. “The other kids are too young to remember o-or too new, but you and I do. That winter, we didn’t have enough. Why are you trying to stop me?” To your horror, your voice cracks. “I thought you understood.”

There’s silence in the room except for your panting breath.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah finally says. The sudden apology is enough to close your mouth against what you might have said. She meets your eyes. “You’ve always been so strong that I…Isla, you were a child. I will always be grateful for what you did that winter and for every winter since. I relied on you, a child, because I didn’t have any other option. We didn’t have another option. But now we do. We’re okay now, Isla. You don’t have to work so hard to protect us.”

“Yes, I do, I’m—” the Hero “—I can do it.” There is something inside of you telling you that that is what you must do. You think that it’s part of being a Hero.

((You’re worried that it’s because you’re scared.))

“My decision is final,” Sarah says. She picks up her documents and straightens them. “You are only to go hunting with an adult from now on. If I find out you went to the woods without one, there will be consequences.”

She’s using the same tone she uses on the other kids when they’re misbehaving. I mean business. You stare at her for a long, breathless moment. You jerkily turn to go.

Mrs. Bahr is hovering in the doorway. She looks guiltily between you and Director Sarah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

You shove past her and run to your room.

-------------.

Somewhat counterintuitively, as an orphan you’re never alone. You throw yourself face down on your bed.

A shocked silence swallows the occupants on the other bed.

“Is she okay?” Josiah asks Hera.

“It’s Isla,” Hera answers. There’s the rustling of bedsheets as Hera climbs out of bed and then the soft sound of socks on hardwood as she comes over. “You okay?”

You are not okay. There’s an intense war of emotions in your chest. Anger that none of the adults seem to think you’re capable. Betrayal that Sarah isn’t on your side. A sick fear at the thought of being unprepared for winter. And, now that you’ve run away so spectacularly, shame. They probably think you’re overreacting, but they’re wrong. They’re the ones who are being naïve. They’re the ones who—

A gentle hand on the back of your head freezes the thought. Hera pets your short, black hairs in an attempt at comfort. “It’s okay, Isla. You can just sleep. Sleep makes everything better.”

That’s what you tell the younger kids. The difference between you and Hera saying it? When Hera falls asleep, you work to fix the problem. If you fall asleep, no one is going to fix the problem for you.

You flip over, dislodging Hera’s hand. You look up at her as if seeing her for the first time. She’s ten, two years older than you were when the winter happened. She was four then. You want to ask her if she remembers, but instead you ask, “Do you think Sarah hates me?”

“What?” Hera’s eyes are wide. “No! What makes you think that?”

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s stupid. Forget I asked.” You turn on your side, your back to them.

“I know she’s worried about you,” Josiah says. He offers the information tentatively. “I overheard her and the Bahrs talking. Did they ban you from the woods?”

You don’t move. “What else did they say?” You’re afraid that he’s going to say they called you weak. Or, worse, a nuisance. “Did they say anything else about me?”

“Not really.”

Nobody hears anything useful around here. You close your eyes. “I just want to be alone for a little while. I—”

There’s a knock on the door. “Isla? It’s me, Marie. Can I come in?”

Marie? Too late you remember that that’s Mrs. Bahr’s name. She’s been trying to get the kids to call her be her first name. So far no one’s taken her up on it and she hasn’t pushed.

Hera opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Bahr. Isla is being moody.”

You sit up with a squawk. “I am not!”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to Isla for a moment,” Mrs. Bahr says to Josiah and Hera. “Alone.”

“Don’t let her yell at you,” Hera says as she passes Mrs. Bahr. “She never means it.”

You are going to strangle her. “I don’t yell!”

“That’s not an inside voice,” Josiah says. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, pulling the door closed behind him and Hera.

You are suddenly alone in the room with Mrs. Bahr.

You sit up further, pressing your back against the headboard. Mrs. Bahr doesn’t look mad. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she’s looking down at the floor. It almost looks like she’s the nervous one. You hug your pillow to your chest. “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Mrs. Bahr looks up at you. Her lips twitch. “Thank you, Isla.” She sits down on Hera’s bed gingerly as if afraid it wouldn’t be able to take her wait. When she’s settled, she says, “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Your arms tighten around your pillow. “Why?”

“Not for saying you shouldn’t hunt alone,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s not a mind reader but sometimes it seems like she is. “For not understanding what hunting means to you. I would have approached things differently if I’d known.”

“Known what?”

“About what you’ve been through.”

The winter. That’s the only thing Mrs. Bahr could be talking about. She must have heard more of your conversation (argument) with the Director than you thought. “It was a long time ago,” you say. You really don’t want to talk about this with Mrs. Bahr. Not when you can still feel that winter’s desperation in your molars like a memory. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Bahr is quiet for a moment. She studies you much like Mr. Bahr did all those weeks ago mending the fence. “I was a knight for 30 years, you know. I supposed it’s not weird that a Knight worked as a knight for so long. As soon as I came into my power at 15, I was compelled to hold a sword. To seek out evils and defeat them. To follow my Lord into battle no matter the cause.” She looks up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a lot of adventures and helped many, many people. But there was a time when I wanted to quit.”

You start. “You did?”

“I wanted to work in a flower shop,” Mrs. Bahr says. She leans back on her hands. “What a life it could have been! Waking up before the sun and hiking to the flower fields…I had my new house all picked out. It’d have a koi pond and a row of red rocks from the Harrow River. That’s where I met Ivan.”

Mr. Bahr. He’s been trying to get you to call him by his first name too. Unlike Mrs. Bahr, he’s much pushier about it. “What made you want to quit?”

“Exhaustion,” Mrs. Bahr says. She closes her eyes. “It seemed that there was a new threat to my Lord every day. An assassination attempt from a branch family. A territorial dispute. A new influx of demon beasts. It got to the point that I hardly left my Lord’s side for fear of returning to find him dead. He was the first Lord I swore my loyalty to. I always felt like I was failing those days. So I wanted to quit.”

You’ve felt like that before. Sometimes it seems like you never catch enough while hunting, that you’re never kind enough, that you’re never strong enough. You’ve never thought about working in a flower shop though. “Why didn’t you?”

“I did.” Mrs. Bahr laughs at your shocked expression. “I was in my twenties. They tell you things calm down after your teen years, but that’s not true. I handed in my resignation and fled for the nearest town.” Her smile softens. “Ivan followed me.”

“He was there?”

Mrs. Bahr nods. “We were sworn to the same Lord. He came galloping up with my resignation clutched in his hand. His face was so red!” She laughs. “’What does this mean, Marie? He was crying! You can’t quit! I haven’t beaten you yet!’”

“And that’s what convinced you to stay a knight?” you ask. That doesn’t help you. You don’t have a significant other to come racing after you.

“No,” Mrs. Bahr said. “Ivan didn’t know why I wanted to quit. I can’t do it, I said. I can’t keep the Lord safe. I’m not enough. You know what he said?”

You shake your head.

“He said, Of course, you’re not enough,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s lowering her voice in imitation of Ivan’s. “You were never going to be enough.” You’re gaping at his harsh words, but Mrs. Bahr looks amused. “That’s why we have a squadron. The job is too big for one person. All you need to do is your part.”

You stare at her, not understanding.

“The world isn’t carried by one person,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I was so convinced that everything was up to me – the Lord’s safety, the next campaign’s success, or defense from monsters – that I buckled under the pressure. What I didn’t see that it wasn’t all my responsibility. I was part of a team. All I had to do was one part.”

You think of the winter night and holding the door shut. There hadn’t been anyone to help you then. Someone needed to comfort the younger kids. Someone needed to try and protect them. “What if there isn’t anyone else?”

“Then we do our best,” Mrs. Bahr says immediately. She meets your eyes. “But are you by yourself now, Isla?”

Yes. You open your mouth to tell her that, but the word won’t come out. Are you? Director Sarah looked so defeated when you accused her of not understanding. But didn’t she understand better than anyone else. You swallow. “No. There’s Director Sarah.”

“What does she do?”

“She takes care of us,” you say. “She makes sure the money we get goes to the right things.”

Mrs. Bahr smiles warmly. “That’s right. Who else?”

“…Hera,” you say. You remember she pulled Josiah from the well before Annie even had the chance to tell you what had happened. “She watches the younger kids.”

“She’s very good with them,” Mrs. Bahr says. “Who else?”

Your mind blanks. Who else? “Josiah. He helps us study.”

“And?”

And? “T-the Lord. He makes sure we have the funds for what we need.”

“Including winter provisions,” Mrs. Bahr agrees.

You frown. You suddenly see where this is going. “The amount of winter provisions he thinks we need.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. “What happens if he’s wrong?”

“That’s why I hunt,” you say. Maybe now she’ll understand. “So that we’ll be okay if he’s wrong.”

“What if you don’t hunt enough?” Mrs. Bahr asks.

Your chest is tight. You rub at your sternum and try to breathe deeply. “We starve,” you say. You wheeze and then clear your throat. “We’d starve, but that’s not going to happen. Because I always hunt enough.” I have to.

“This year,” Mrs. Bahr says, voice gentle and soothing, “say you don’t hunt anymore. The winter is harsher than expected and the orphanage’s stores are depleted. What do you think will happen?”

You laugh and gasp at the same time. “They’d all starve,” you say again. What doesn’t she get about that? “First the little ones then—”

Mrs. Bahr is shaking her head. “No, Isla, that’s not what would happen.”

Your temper flares. “That’s what always—”

“What would happen,” Mrs. Bahr says in her even tone, “is that Mr. Bahr and I would come deliver extra provisions to you.”

All the air is chased from your lungs. You feel eight again, small and vulnerable and cold. You’re shivering as you stare at her. “You would?”

“We would.” Gently, as if afraid she might scare you, Mrs. Bahr moves from Hera’s bed to yours. She puts a warm hand on your knee. “We’re a fortress. The Lord gives us part of the emergency fund in order to keep our stores and grounds ready for refugees. Mr. Bahr keeps fifteen percent more than the most generous estimate out of an abundance of caution. We would come and make sure nobody starved.”

For some reason, that makes you want to cry. You blink against the sudden heat behind your eyes. “Oh.”

“That’s why we don’t want you to go hunting,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her thumb rubs over your knee. “It was worth the risk before. You worked hard to keep everyone here alive. You are incredible, for that, Isla. I can’t tell you how much I admire your strength and your bravery. But things are different now. You don’t need to do as much as you did before. There are other people on your squad.”

But I’m the Hero, you want to say. Heroes are supposed to save the day, aren’t they?

Knights help save the day too.

You let Mrs. Bahr pat your knee for a long time. She seems content to let you think, her energy a pleasant hum next to you. A knot is untying in your chest. If you don’t hunt, it’s not the end of everyone. There will still be the funds from the Lord. Sarah’s always been excellent at stretching those as far as they need to go. And, if they aren’t enough, there’s something different this year. The Bahrs are here.

“You’d help us even if you’re only going to adopt one of us?” you ask.

Mrs. Bahr’s lips thin. She looks sad, but hides it quickly. “We’re Knights,” she says. “Even if we are retired. We’ll be here the moment you need us.”

You don’t hope. Hope is traumatic. But…

You believe her.

--------

(Part 2) (part 3)

--------

Thanks for reading! There will be a new part of Hope and the Hero every Friday!

If you'd like to read the whole story now, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

There's also a new story up there, a sequel to my Dandelion villain story (X)

Summary: You are free of mind control for the first time in a year. The only things standing between you and your revenge are the heroes.

#my writing #second person #the hero and hope #long post #this part is 6k words and the entire story is almost 19k

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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

Text

We Thought You Died?!

Billy became a hero in 1959, and he was a hit. He was extremely popular. Captain Marvel was a beloved hero. As for the Squadron of Justice? They were beloved too. They, plus Captain Marvel were the superheroes of that time. They were the flipping blueprint for being a hero, especially Captain Marvel. Then the bubble formed in 62, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth and everyone thought he died.

Then, out of nowhere, they just reappeared.

News channel: *showing a clip of Marvel*

Grandson: *tugs on Grandma’s sleeve* “Grandma, that looks like the hero guy the teacher are making us learn about.”

Grandma: “Amazing. He looks just like the real thing.”

Yeah… People didn’t really believe it at first. Though, to be fair, all the Fawcett heroes have been gone for over sixty years.

Old Man: “It’s disrespectful is it what is. Just because you have the same powers doesn’t mean you can dress up as a dead hero.”

Old Woman: “ I just feel bad for the families. To see someone dress up as your dead husband or wife and then go around pretending to be them? Disgraceful.”

It was then the Justice League got involved. They really couldn’t have these people running around like this. Not only that, but some of the imposters are lethal. Not to mention that there are people in the Justice League who used to know the Fawcett heroes. They were friends with them for Christ’s sake. So that’s why unanimously, they went and confronted these guys.

Supes: *hovering over Fawcett*

Marvel: *helps a cat out of a tree and sees him so he flies up*

Supes: *disapproving look* “I hope you know that if you’re trying to be a her—”

Marvel: “Oh my gods, your suit is awesome!”

Supes: “Thank you…?

Marvel: “Are you a new hero? What’s your name? Are you from Fawcett or are you gonna join us here?”

Supes: *computing, still stuck on the first question*

Meanwhile, Flash and Minuteman were arguing which then somehow spiraled into them getting tacos. Batman and Robin, and Mister Scarlet and Pinky are just fighting. And Bulletgirl and Wonder Woman had a civil conversation that actually got them a lot of information.

After sorting out the entire misunderstanding that they were all imposters, things thankfully got lighter.

Marvel: “Oh my gods, Jay, you’re an old man! What happened to your long luscious locks of beautiful brown hair?”

Barry: *holding back a laugh* “Long luscious locks?”

Jay: “Okay, it was not long, luscious, or beautiful. He just insists on calling it that to embarrass me.”

Marvel: “But it’s true! Or it was true.”

Jay: “No it wasn’t. I had perfectly average hair, thank you very much.”

Yeah, Billy met up with some of his old friends, and they were all ecstatic to see their eight feet tall, golden retriever who just wanted to make the world a better place.

Marvel: “So your not an hero anymore? Then what happened to the JSA?”

Alan Scott (First Green Lantern): “We disbanded…”

Marvel: “WHAT? Why?”

Alan: “Well, we were getting old. We needed to retire.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah.” *sounds a little bummed*

Alan: “I mean, there’s now this thing called the Justice League? Wildcat joined them. So did Mr. Terrific.”

Marvel: “That sounds like a ripoff of you guys!”

He joins anyways. So do the other Fawcett heroes cause they might as well. That’s when things go down hill once more because the JL are forced to remember that a couple Fawcett heroes, mostly Spy Smasher, kill people.

Batman and Spy Smasher: *tied up the Joker after beating up his goons*

Spy Smasher (SS): “Alright, let’s get out of here.” *pulls out a gun and puts it to the Joker’s forehead*

Batman: “What are you doing?”

SS: “I’m ending this…?” *cocks his gun*

Batman: *slaps the gun away* “No, you’re not. He’s going back to Arkham.”

SS: *pulls another gun out* “Yes, I am. Are you seriously telling me you don’t want to permanently end this guy? I’ve heard people call him a terrorist.”

The two then duked it out and the Joker still went back to Arkham anyways. Spy Smasher was so salty, not that literally anyone could blame him.

Marvel: “Wait, so people don’t kill villains anymore?”

SS: *sitting next to him, bandaged*

Wildcat: “Nope. Nowadays, you got to turn them into the police and let them break out again. I know it’s stupid.”

Marvel: “But what about the mass murderers? What about the Black Adams or the Captain Nazis? People who have done messed up stuff?”

Wildcat: “To jail they go. Why do you care anyways? It’s not like you killed any of your villains.”

Marvel: “Well, I didn’t, but I gotta ask because Smasher is trying so hard not to physically claw off his own skin at the thought of these guys just breaking back out.”

Safe to say, getting used to the modern world, took some getting used to for everyone. As for Billy, he chills with the gang at the old folks home, reminiscing about times as if he’s aged with them.

Also, like, genuinely, their disappearance would show up in top ten unsolved mysteries vids because genuinely, they just disappeared with no trace.

Billy also doesn’t know what to think of the many memorials he finds of himself and the other Fawcett heroes around the country.

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mkarchin713 · 1 year ago

Text

Ida was having the best time.

Sure her bitch of a daughter in law and her spineless worm of a son had carted her off to an old folks home under a fake name and and equally fake Alzheimer’s diagnosis after she cut them out of the will left her entire fortune and all the patents to Sam in a vein attempt to pressure her into giving them everything, but other than that she was great. If only she could talk to Sam everything would be peachy.

At least she had Tim. The kid would have been a great con man but Ida knew enough to recognize a kid looking for a mark when she saw one. Originally she planned on stringing him along if only to protect the other patients who actually had dementia, that and she wanted somebody to mess with. Poor chump bought her act hook line and sinker and she quickly learned why Tim really needed a grandma Edna.

Ida had to admit, Tim’s plan was as brilliant as it was unnecessary. Kid didn’t want to be adopted cause he didn’t wanted to be taken in out of obligation and apparently his not-dad wasn’t doing a good job at showing Tim was loved and cared for. Too bad Tim picked Ida because Granny Edna’s not gonna let him go anytime soon. Plus she hasn’t had this much fun since she was a Holliday Girl, well almost.

Messing with Tim wasn’t as fun as punching Nazis, sneaking off to make out with Janos Prohaska, or ruffling the feathers of all those stiffs in the All Star Squadron, but hat she was old, her body couldn’t keep up with all the excitement of her youth anymore.

Speaking of the All Stars Ida needs to convince Tim to take her to the next reunion. If she doesn’t show her old friends will come looking for her and she doesn’t want poor Danny to get swept up in super hero politics at his age, it sucks all the fun out of being a hero. At the very least she can probably convince Jason to take her, kids got more street smarts than his brother that’s for sure.

You know how Tim made up an Uncle and hired an actor to play Him to prevent Bruce from adopting Tim?

Like...what if he just went to a Rest Home/Assisted Living/Home Care place instead and found a Grandparent aged adult to be his Grandma/pa? Especially if said person has Alizhmers and so doesn't realize that Tim isn't their actual family member. He just wanders around until someone calls out to him like they know who he is. Where they think he's their son or grandson and after a few test runs of them constantly thinking he's related to them, he just runs with it.

It's not like the courts will care. If he can fake an Uncle he can definitely fake a relationship to Grandma Edna, (married 6 and a half times so she tells the staff with pride) and Tim's like "Oh yes she's the first wife of Grandpa Drake but we don't talk about their explosive marriage." (Grandma Edna ran with the mob after all. Did those nasty heists) and Grandpa Drake divorced her lickety split once he found out (hence why no one remembers she was a Drake -because she never was-) because she wasn't on the up and up and Grandpa Drake married Grandma Drake soon after for the status and Grandma Drake was the mother of Jack Drake, his father. But Edna's still family you know and Tim can visit without reprecussions now since he's the last Drake. Which is great. Tim is happy. Grandma Edna is happy to see (name changes every time she sees him) and it's all going great!

.... Until Jason catches on.

Until Jason visits the facility where Grandma Edna is while Tim is there.

Until Grandma Edna is like "Oh Mitchy! Look your father is here. Preston dear. You need to bond with your son! Here's some money *pulls out a wad of cash and a switch blade from behind her oxygen tank* He's been missing you something fierce. Go to a ball game okay? Oh! And Stab the umpire for me. He still owes me for the 86th. You tell him that. He'll know what I mean. And buy a chilli dog! Alex is far too skinny! You need to feed him more Victor." And Tim just....has to go along with it.

Because he can't be exposed. He's had Grandma Edna for a year and a half year now and doesn't want to lose her too.

Now if only he can convince Jason that Tim pretending to be Edna's grandson is much better than Bruce having to adopt him out of obligation. He's not Bruce's son after all. Not family. That's for Jason. "See Jason it's fine. I'm not replacing you like this. I have my own family. It's well...it's fake. But she doesn't realize and that's fine. You don't even have to take me anywhere! She won't remember once you leave, just leave. I'll be fine. It's all fi--why in the world are you buying me a chilli dog!?"

#tim drake #fake family au #grandma edna knows more than she lets on #does she actually have alzheimers? that depends. you a cop?#dp x dc #dpxdc #Ida Manson #is Grandma Edna #she was also a Holliday Girl. a member of the All Star Squadron and the ex girlfriend of the original Blackhawk #she knows Danny is Phantom #she probably knows Tim is Robin too #Ida got left in an old folks home for changing her will and her son and daughter in law won’t let her out till she agrees to change her will #Sam doesn’t know where Ida is and is worried about her #Ida gets all her cash playing cards with shady nurses who steal the actual patients money #Ida was a hero and her husband was a retired supervillain #they decided to retire when they got pregnant and make money using her husbands more commercially viable inventions #if you can find a canon character that could work for Idas former identity I say do it

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kyxhiin · 28 days ago

Note

Captain Marvel but people discover he joined the JL a teensy bit too young like. 20 years later

It will go a bit something like.

After 20 whole years. The Justice league is hosting a retirement party, where all the past great heroes take a leisurement into their old lives. Letting the new generation of superheroes take over. Surprisingly, only those who looks like they haven't aged at all was Captain Marvel and Wonderwoman. But nobody beats around the bush with it, why? Their related to God's and stuff!

Billy now after 20 Years, have reached the age of 28 (he joined the JL when he was 8 in this.) Thought that it would be a great time to reveal his identity. I mean he has nothing to hide! He's a fully grown man now, has a job and all that shtick.

So right now he has gathered up all his oldened colleagues, heroes, and vigilantes. To tell them something important. (Batman knows what this is about and is happy for once about FINALLY learning what Cap's identity is.)

Captain Marvel: SHAZAM!

A roaring thunder came in, clashing with the banquet hall. As the smoke cleaned up the people expected an old man. Like Bruce, only to see a man who looks strikingly simular to cap but younger. Like have only reached his late 20s younger.

Captain Marvel, now Billy: So this is me, My name's William Batson. But you can all call me Billy.

Batman: Cap- William. How old are you?

Billy: I don't see how that's relevant..

Superman with the same concerned look as B: Mar-Billy, please answer the question.

Billy: Uh This is totally not relevant at all, why should I?

Green Lantern (Hal): Cap' just answer it.

Billy: Well... 20.. 8?

The JL just combined: WHAT.

Superman: Captain, it's been 20 years since you joined the JL..

Flash: How in the hell did an 8 year old look like that.

Batman: You should've told us. William. It was a very irresponsible thing to do. Even if your an adult now.

Flash: Don't just skip over my question-

Green Lantern: Cap' you've had world ending powers since you were 8?

Billy: I- uhm..

All the Female or Male heroes who tried to flirt with Cap Back then: Oh.. Oh God. OH GOD.

Billy: It's best not to panic.

Short story, they all panic.

#dc #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #shazam #billy batson #captain marvel #detective comics #batman #fawcett comics #superman #clark kent #green lantern #hal jordan #flash dc #barry allen #bruce wayne #fawcett #fawcett city

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enviedear · 3 months ago

Text

YOU DIDN'T SEE MY VALENTINE (I SENT IT VIA PANTOMIME)

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | Could I request Jason Todd being jealous of Dick and reader who is slightly older and he’s harboured a crush on since his Robin days? AND jason todd/reader + jealousy

CW | jealous!jason—nothing crazy, not canon compliant but this is my tl now, some 'will they, won't they', and lots of jason being weird with feelings. 1.2k words. 🎧ྀི

in all honesty, you knew richard grayson before you ever truly knew JASON TODD. he was just a pubescent sidekick the last time you'd seen him—masked in thinly veiled anonymity. both boistful and timid, he always brought a smile out of you—teen angst and all.

but then he died. your life continued, morphing into the blissfully misunderstood present of your early twenties. heroism sits on your backburner, choosing to slow down for a career. normalcy, in a sense. and even though you've more than officially retired from your masked identity, dick grayson still remains everpresent. he offers up unrelenting friendship with ease.

normalcy has faded in recent months. reanimation of a corpse has the tendency to do that. and despite being one of the last to learn of jason's return, you were one of the first for him to turn to, to seek out. his attitude, his spirit, his mere presence—have thrown your life into a complete tailspin.

he usually stops by unannounced, often bloodied and bruised. he's gruff and pointed. no longer timid, but apathetic. far different from the young boy you remember—that scrappy, defiant, and utterly resolved mini hero. back then, you’d barely had time to catch your breath between your own assignments to make any sense of the boy glaring up at you in challenge. always like he had something to prove. his vigor had amused you then, but you couldn’t have known the weight behind it—not then.

now, it feels unavoidable. he doesn't talk about it, but he doesn't have to. it's in the way he carries his shoulders, tense and unsure. the way his once deep blue eyes have recast to a murky blend of frosted jade. he's changed, and yet you're still the one he seeks out. the thought has replayed and plagued your mind for days on end.

the kid you'd known had become something else entirely. taller, broader, with a rigid fixation toward you that feels…alarmingly familiar and unknown all at once. most times, you can't place why—that is, until he reminds you.

“dick’s taking you out again?” his voice cuts through the casual quiet of your apartment, where you’d been getting ready. the sound is rough, almost indifferent.

glancing over your shoulder, you spot jason leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and jaw tight. you never heard him come in, but he hasn't startled you. no, you expected him. you refocus on what he has asked—his question, though simple, has an unmistakable bite to it. you don't let it affect you, not now, or anymore.

at first it was hard to come to terms with the aggravation and disdain riddled within him. it spewed out so easily. now though, you understand it. no part of you enjoys it, but you love him. much more than he can seem to realize—too fractured to see through your companionship. a role reversal of utter hell.

you hesitate, brushing off the strange weight of his stare. “yeah. just dinner. catching up. he's been at work so much recently...”

you see a flicker of something unclear cross jason’s face. it’s quick—but the tension sticks, thick and heavy in the room. it's an old grudge, somehow outliving death. you suppose it makes sense—he spent years begging to patrol with the two of you, just to be firmly told no. he always got so agitated, completely annoyed. it seems he's the same, old habits die hard.

he clears his throat, still glaring severely, “right. catching up.”

there’s that bite again, sharper this time. he’s trying to be casual, but it doesn’t land.

“is something wrong?” you ask, turning to face him fully now, eyebrows raised and tone nearly exasperated.

he shrugs, but his eyes don’t meet yours. they’re focused somewhere over your shoulder. “just seems like dick’s always around, that’s all.”

you blink, surprised. “we’ve been friends for years, jason. you know that.”

“yeah, i know.” his voice is lower now, quieter. “i just…i don’t get why you still hang out with him so much.”

that gets your attention. the tension, the clipped responses—it all clicks into place. you rise, studying him. “are you… jealous?”

the moment the word leaves your mouth, you watch his posture stiffen. his eyes finally meet yours, a mix of frustration and something softer, almost vulnerable, in them.

“no.” he mutters, but it’s not convincing.

“jason.” you sigh, shaking your head. “dick is just a friend.”

“yeah, i know. so why's he’s always taking you out?” he huffs, and there it is—the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface finally breaking through. “ever since i was a kid, he’s had your attention. i'm just...the other one.”

his words hang in the air, weighted with years of implicit beliefs. suddenly, you understand. this isn’t just about his brother. it’s about everything jason’s never said—the way he’d always felt second to someone else.

you take a step forward, close enough now that you can see the cracks in his bitter expression. and you notice the way he wants to pull back but doesn't—can’t.

“you have never been that to me, jason.” you say softly, your voice steady.

he scoffs, but there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “yeah? didn’t seem like it.”

“maybe not then, but things are different now.” you say, holding his gaze. “you’re different. we’re different. everything, is different.”

for a moment, jason doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out if he should believe you.

“doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” he mutters, quieter now. the tension shifts, softening slightly, though, his guard remains.

you take one last step, close enough that you can reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “jason.” you say, and his name comes out softer than you mean it to. “you have my attention now. not as a kid. not as robin. as you.”

there’s a pause, a beat of silence before he finally drops his eyes. when he looks back at you, there’s a flicker of longing in them, a look almost too vulnerable for the man he's returned as.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.

you nod, and this time, you close the distance. your hands gently tether to his crossed arms, “yeah, i’m sure.”

his muscles tense under your touch—but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his eyes fall to where your hands rest against him, something flickering there. you squeeze his arms lightly, attempting to ground him.

“jason,” you say softly, “i don’t see you the way you think i do. i never have.”

he lets out a rough breath, like he’s been holding it for ages. his gaze is still cast downward, jaw clenched. you wait, patient, giving him the space to find his words.

“i don’t know how to be around you anymore.” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i want to be around you, like how dick is. i just...came back wrong.”

the confession rings in your head. you almost feel the weight of it, pressing against the edges of your chest, and your heart aches for him. for the boy he was, the man he’s become, and the space in between where he feels like he’s lost himself.

“you didn’t come back wrong.” you whisper, stepping even closer.

his head tilts slightly, as if he’s processing your words, trying to let them sink in past years of self-doubt.

his hands uncross slowly, falling to his sides, but he doesn’t pull away from you. instead, his right hand reaches up, hesitant at first, before he gently cups the side of your face. fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“you sure about that?” he asks again, but this time there’s no malice. less unease.

you nod, your hand coming up to cover his, your voice steady. “yeah. i’m sure, jason.”

almost timidly, he speaks again, "can you just... just tonight, stay here."

you study him as you answer, "why?"

he sighs, eyes flicking to a wall, "grayson's had years to spend with you, i haven't. c'mon, let me take you out instead." he shrugs, looking at you now, "call it making up for lost time."

you can't fight the tug in your chest, and you nod—relenting, "fine." you offer him a small smile, "where are we going?"

you don't catch what he suggests, nodding along. you're too hyperaware of the dimpled smile on his face now. two perfect reminiscent pictures of the sweet kids you used to be. only, this time you're choosing him—and you plan to continue to.

#dc jason todd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd thoughts #jason todd imagine #redhood x reader #redhood

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

Text

Little Pig

Lando, his girlfriend, and their unconventional pet

ugh need me a man who will let me build my dream stables

landonorris

tagged: pigthepony

liked by y/nl/n, and 563,910 others

landonorris flo's fault

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y/nl/n handsome lil man

username1 is this how the world finds out y/n and lando got a horse

mclaren welcome to the mclaren family, pig!

y/nl/n ik i just called him handsome but you chose the worst picture

landonorris i love our ugly son 🥹

y/nl/n he's not ugly, just unfortunate

pigthepony

liked by maxverstappen1, and 43,192 others

pigthepony bitches used to want my dad now they want me

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maxverstappen1 this shouldn't shock me by it does

maxverstappen1 can p come and meet pig?

y/nl/n kinda don't trust him not to take off with her yet

y/nl/n but soon

landonorris bitches still want me, pig 😤😤

y/nl/n ...

landonorris looooooooooove youuuu

username2 omg i already love pig

username3 absolute king behaviour

pigthepony

liked by oscarpiastri, and 58,102 others

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pigthepony this is how mum and I have fun when dads away

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landonorris they grow up so fast

y/nl/n we miss you

username4 wait this is is Lando's pony?

username5 how did you not know about pig?

username4 i followed bc im a horse girl, only just become an f1 girlie

oscarpiastri check your mail

landonorris what did you do?

y/nl/n DID YOU SEND THE CUSTOM ORANGE RUG??

oscarpiastri guiiiiltyyyyy

pigthepony

liked by landonorris, and 67,281 others

pigthepony already got my first win before dad (suck it old man)

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landonorris PIG!!

pigthepony 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

danielricciardo oooo burn

charles_leclerc pig you're my hero

username6 omg this is so funny

username7 even lando's pet has a win before him (congrats pig!)

alex_albon congratulations on the win!!

pigthepony thanks, uncle Al

username8 imagine the sass if we got a moon and pig meetup

liked by logansargeant

pigthepony

liked by landonorris, and 72,293 others

pigthepony HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU OLD BITCH 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

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oscarpiastri pig did you get your dad a rose?

pigthepony no my mum just wanted me to look handsome

landonorris y/n i hate you so much

landonorris i love pig but i hate you

y/nl/n love you, birthday boy

landonorris why is my son calling me a bitch?

y/nl/n hey now i didn't teach him bad language

landonorris my family is a mess and I love it

y/nl/n family 🥹🥹🥹

username9 what did you get lando for his birthday, pig?

pigthepony the post is his gift

pigthepony

liked by landonorris, and 84,019 others

pigthepony DAD GOT HIS FIRST WIN (after i got mine) i think its retirement time

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username10 NO PIG DON'T MANIFEST THE RETIREMENT

pigthepony i want my parents home

maxverstappen1 pig should come and celebrate with us

y/nl/n you're a bad influence on my son (pig is in love with p)

landonorris thank you my little handsome man

pigthepony i love my daaaaaaad

landonorris we'll celebrate as a family when I get home

y/nl/n family 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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kryptznnn · 1 month ago

Text

♛- Hypnotized

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

➸ INTERESTS; - pro-hero! katsuki bakugo x f! intern reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - (requested submission by @nivphcyo) As you reached your early twenties, you successfully received a part time job as an intern within a specific pro-hero’s company. More specifically one you’ve had a crush on since your teens, so you do everything in your power to make him see you the way you do him.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. roughly 1.5k, employee x boss trope, friends with benefits, working environment, age gap (48 & 22), smut, slight dirty talk, daddy/sir kink, overstimulation, p in v (unprotected), orgasm mention (both m & f), oral sex (f!receiving), marking/hickey mentions, kissing, romantic gestures, romantic tension, sexual tension, indecision, etc.

➸a.i; - thank you for the req!! sorry it’s short but i hope you enjoy it and it’s within what you expected, i had fun writing it!! xoxo

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

song recommendations:

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

His eyes hadn’t left your figure as you walked into his office for the second time this week. Your heels clicking onto the clean tile floors as he watched from his desk, slowly covering his mouth with his hand before dragging it down and looking away.

He soon stood up, buttoning the single button he had removed on his tuxedo jacket before walking over to you and leaving his hand out to shake. You took it and shook it politely, now making eye contact with him before he let your hand go and looked away.

Katsuki Bakugo was one of many things, a pro-hero, a model, a former teacher, a former husband, and a current businessman. Out of all of his professions has he never encountered a problem as great as the one in front of him today. You were a problem, you always had been since you first started several months ago.

As he went over your files and heard of the others within his firm speaking of you he hadn’t taken much thought into it, but when you came into his office all cheerful and happy he knew. He knew how much of an issue this could’ve spiraled into if he didn’t get control of himself.

He was too old to be dealing with this, far too old. The only thing that could make others not tell it either was possibly the fact that his natural hair color was so light, practically camouflaging the grey hairs that made their ways out from his scalp. He could tell of course, he always has been able too, and even as he let his beard grow out slowly he could tell. The small dashes of grey and sand that seemed to mix together within his beard proved it.

By some miracle that he might’ve prayed for, he gained a compliment from you on your first encounter, complimenting his hairstyle along with his beard. You spoke of how it suited his figure and level of maturity, that you liked it, and honestly the way you spoke he was sure you had purred the words out instead of spoke. Whatever it was had him hooked, he was hooked onto you even though he knew he shouldn’t have been.

If anything you were a little under half of his age, and towards some alarm it hadn’t bothered you, but it had to him entirely. Let alone the fact you were his employee, working towards his firm to support his work as a pro-hero, knowing he would retire soon enough further down the years.

He wasn’t sure what had switched within you or what caused you to make such a drastic thought, but when you began to come to work with different attire it awoken something in him. Your skirts getting shorter or tighter, wearing your tuxedo jacket less and less within the firm unless there was a change in weather. He hated it, he hated what you were doing and he hated how it made him feel.

He also hated how whenever you would walk into his office and did that little thing you’d do with your hands or face before letting your hair down slightly. You were teasing him, you both knew it, you loved it and you loved watching his expression. The two of you had already knew he was drawn to you, so overall if you were flirtatious or teasing there was nothing he could do to stop you or say to stick professional, because deep down in his dark desires he loved it.

He wasn’t sure if it was just lust or love, maybe a mixture of both, but he didn’t want anything else to do with anyone unless if it was you. He was just as quick to call you into his office to listen to your reports as much as he was jealous when you would be on break with other men in the firm. He would always keep his eye on you from afar, gritting his teeth as he watched you laugh with them, sway your hips, flip your hair to tie it back, reapplying parts of your makeup.

You knew better than to do things like that when he had his eyes on you, of course you didn’t actually know that, he just assumed you did. He thought the ideas and hints between the two of you were made clear without sharing any words, but apparently he was wrong. This alone has now brought the two of you here, into his office late at night after everyone’s shifts had finished.

He now was quick to offer you a seat in front of his desk as he walked over to the large glass window behind him, serving as a wall as he looked down towards the dimly lit city. He took a sharp deep breath attempting to push down the sinful thoughts he had of you earlier before speaking.

“L/n, you are one of the hardest working women I have here in my firm, and you’ve also been here for nearly a year now.” He started, still looking out the window but speaking loud enough for you to hear, your eyes were glued onto his back with furrowed brows, thinking to yourself what he must’ve been waiting to say or break the news to you.

“But I’ve also taken notice of your sudden relationship with one of the other male coworkers recently, and must ask if things have remained professional between the two of you.” He spoke, slightly turning his head over his shoulder awaiting your response, you immediately began to stutter before speaking.

“Of course sir, there’s nothing happening between us. We just joke around too much about personal stuff and other things.” You spoke in a worried tone, shaking your head slightly as you raised your hands to speak with them. He only looked back out to the window again before speaking, huffing as he did so.

“So him speaking this morning of how he was going to quote on quote ‘Fuck you senseless until you can’t think’ was also a part of the joke?” He said, his voice laced with anger. If anything even if he wasn’t turned around you could see the thick vein that would appear out of his forehead and throat out of frustration.

Honestly you were taken aback by his saying, not even aware that he had said nothing like that. You wore a shocked look on your face, thinking back to him and shuddering at the feeling of him saying those things with the other guys. You quickly realized that your silence might’ve been taken as an answer and stood up in a rush to defend yourself.

“No sir, under no circumstance was I even aware that he had said any of those things about me. I am entirely sorry, I’ve let this strain out too far, I never knew he was that type of person.” You stated, now standing up and attempting to make your way over to him slowly.

He caught onto the click of your heels again, his attitude less angry now as he could smell your perfume from behind him. This wasn’t fair, no matter how hard he tried or how upset he was at the world he could never be with you. It was as if the universe itself was teasing him instead of you, taunting him with something he had been craving, desired, but couldn’t have.

You were everything to him, and he knew it, you were intelligent and charismatic, if anything your personality was the entire opposite of his and he adored it. You gave him hope, and just by several conversations with you or about you he realized exactly what you were to him. There was even a time where he had opened up to you about his ex wife, to which you laughed at her traits and compared yourself to him, saying you would never do such things or even dream of acting that way.

And he seconded it, believing every word you said and even added that whoever you were with in the future would be lucky to have you. Then refraining back to business as he always had when the tension between the two of you became too strong. Now he had to stand here and settle this with you, his feelings included.

“I trust you.” He spoke, now turning around slowly to look at you. You only looked at him with a worried expression as your heels clicked to a stop, looking into his eyes with a slight frown. You only replied in agreement before speaking again, this time your tone hinted seriousness.

“I like my men much more older than me anyways.” You added, smirking slightly as you watched his body stiffen as his breath hitched. He quickly made his way around you before taking a seat at his soft chair at his desk, his back now facing you. You only raised a brow and made your way over to him waverly.

This was wrong, he thought to himself about everything, anything that could die down the feeling of excitement he felt when you spoke those words to him. He was old enough to be your father if he wanted, let alone the fact you worked for him, it was forbidden, everything about it was.

A large emphasis on was, because as of right now he had you spread across his desk. Your back laid flat on the harsh cold wood as your legs were spread. Your face was flushed and your hair had been a mess, let alone the lipstick you wore, as it was no surprise that your clothing had been practically forced off, scattered across the floor behind you as he ate you out.

Your small moans and mewls were like music to his ears as he hummed in satisfaction listening to you. He was intoxicated by you and everything you did, so when his grip on your thighs tightened from how hard you gripped his hair and your rambling had gotten louder he wasted no time in applying more pressure. The sight from his point of view was for sore eyes, watching as beads of sweat trickled down your throat and forehead out of concentration, and your hair sticking to parts of your face. Even every now and then when you would whimper and throw your head back as tears rolled down your cheeks, he loved it.

“Sir, I’m so close, please- fuck.” You whined, your legs now taking the initiative to press closed, nearly closing his head in between as he held your legs spread, only humming in response to which your body shook, feeling the vibrations in your clit.

Sooner than later your orgasm had washed over you harshly, your back arching as you mumbled over and over lines of curse words. Attempting to wash over your high you practically began to ride his face, heavy moans and grunts leaving your throat as you seized, now attempting to sit up straight to look at him.

He had a large grin plastered on his face, a mixture of saliva and your remains coated his lips before he licked them and yanked you closer to him. His now unbuttoned shirt was being removed as he wore a wife eater underneath, you placed your hand on his chest, quick to roll it up as he removed it.

For someone within his late forties his body was to kill for, he might’ve lost a lot of things or changed on various occasions but his body and physique wasn’t one of them. You quickly looked away flushed and drew your hand away, only for him to pull it back and place it back over his torso.

“You asked for this remember? Now help me out.” He spoke, now drawing your attention back to him before unzipping his pants, his painful erection now springing free as he pulled down his underwear. You took action before he could, your cold hands dragging down before making your way to it, hearing him hiss as you pressed your thumb over his tip.

It had leaked of pre-cum and if you hadn’t known any better when you picked up your head to look at him it seemed as if he was embarrassed by it. You wasted no time before aligning yourself against it, rubbing up and down on it attempting to coat it in your slick before pressing it towards your entrance.

Quickly catching you by surprise Katsuki slammed into you, his thrusts quick and rough as you yelled at the sudden movement towards how sensitive you were from your primary orgasm. Your hands made way to his shoulders, practically hanging onto him for dear life as he bent down and whispered into your ear.

“Whatcha think? Gonna be my little work slut? Huh?” He asked, pulling back slightly as he was answered with your moans getting louder before playing with your nipples with one hand, as he placed the other one down on the desk beside you as leverage. The way you moaned several names towards him and cried underneath him gave him his answer, especially with how quickly you were nodding now. He was surprised at first seeing and listening to you, muttering the words ‘daddy’ and ‘sir’ repeatedly, it had awakened something in him he hadn’t expected.

He only chuckled at you before releasing your nipples from his grasp and pushing down on your lower abdomen, his large hand finding way over your pelvis. His smirk had now widened as a realization came to mind before he spoke again.

“Can you feel me right here? Yeah? You feel daddy inside you?” He asked with a coo, almost as if to mock you before your tears become more, nodding to him as your nails were now digging into his skin as your legs were left lifted into the air. Somehow by your surprise your left heel had still remained on your foot, your stockings now full of sweat and having a large tear in the middle between your legs.

“Please, please sir, I can’t” you whined, now changing the name you had called him prior between daddy and sir. He only persisted you could as he angled himself deeper inside of you, hissing as he felt you continue to tighten around him, your gummy walls weakening him.

It hadn’t helped that now it felt as if he was destroying you from inside out, his tip brutally brushing against your cervix with each thrust. Causing your curses and babbles to become louder and louder as he lowered his hand to play with your clit as your leg had now recoiled back. Your knee had been bent entirely and you could feel your heel brush against your bottom as he did so.

You felt yourself about to give out before being snapped back into reality as a familiar feeling brewed in your lower belly. The feeling was more intense than before as you now began whining and repeating the same actions as before. Katsuki could already tell that you were close, but he still kept his eyes locked onto your face.

You looked pretty, he thought to himself, beautiful even. Worn out and flushed beyond the point of coming back, heavy breathing and salty skin from your sweat and small hickeys that danced across your collarbones. Without any thought he leaned down to kiss you, his eyes closed as you kissed him back, his tongue asking for entrance which you obliged as he explored your mouth.

It hadn’t helped how you moaned into the kiss when you reached your orgasm, quickly making his cock twitch from inside you. His heavy pants and worships of praise and slight degrading quickly came to an end after you reached your high, quickly pulling out of you before reaching own orgasm, stroking himself shortly before his release coated your lower belly.

As you both breathed heavy and looked at the mess you had made around his office you smiled slightly at each other. You soon laid out back on his desk as you now felt tired, feeling him wipe on your lower stomach with some sort of cloth before kissing you there.

This was going to be the first of many incidents within his office as his intern, that you both knew.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

#katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #kryptznnn #kryptznnn reqs

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mariastorm · 2 years ago

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Danny became the head assistant to one Timothy Drake-Wayne after nearly 20 years of being retired from the hero gig. In Danny's opinion,no 16 year old should be managing a multi - million dollar company as a pass time instead the fricking grown adult who owned said company... *cough,cough .....Bruce Wayne.

But then again,what did he know, alot.....he knew alot about Tim and his family of furries...the undead souls of Gotham tended to tell you things if you gave them the chance, he was just some guy in his thirties who had just moved to Gotham just a year ago. He couldn't just walk up to them and offer a free therapy session with his sister to fix the general mess that was the Wayne family unless he wanted the 'batclan' to start paying attention to him and later creeping him out with their stalking. So he chose a more subtle approach ; slowly integrate into their lives and fix their disaster of a family one appointment at a time.

He started off great. Tim began to open up to him in the office as the days went by. They talked in-between work schedules and meetings. He learnt about Tim's likes and dreams,lent an ear when he needed to vent about stuff involving home or school. In a way , Danny had realised somewhere in between that he was slowly mentally adopting Tim as his kid . He ended doing the same thing with the other Wayne children when he met them. Apparently,Tim spoke about him to the others when he was home and they had all gotten curious. Heck he had even met Alfred and they got on like a house on fire . Now he sometimes joins the old man to shop for groceries every other weekend. He had met Bruce as well and let's just say their first meeting involved Danny scolding the hell out of the man for allowing a literal child to manage his company when said child should have been doing child things as well as all the other things and the others had told him Bruce had done. Alfred had patted him on the back after he had finished his speech while the kids had been laughing at their father's expense.

Bruce had surprisingly taken it like a man considering the fact that he was being told off on how to 'parent' by a twink who was his son's assistant and therefore his employee. Danny had expected to be jobless after that fiasco but instead he was invited to dinner that very same week by Bruce himself. Albeit Bruce refused to make eye contact and seemed to have been having a fever as his face and ears were bright red but Danny didn't mind,free food was free food.... Even if he still wonderd why he had spotted Dick and Stephanie spying on them from the hallway with knowing looks on their faces......

Danny didn't even know how but suddenly he was fully involved in their lives; night time hobbies included after they dramatically told him to which Danny had simply responded with an "ya don't say?"and proceeded to go back to drinking his tea with Alfred . Things in the bat-brood were healing nicely;they were talking, bonding and generally starting to look like a true family. A true family with Danny in it. And Danny himself didn't realize this until one fluke .....no.... Two flukes occurred on the night of the biggest gala Danny had ever attended in his halfa life {galas he attended at Sam's mansion included} .

The first fluke ,he had been both happy and embarrassed about.....

Not one or two or three BUT four of the Wayne children had addressed him as 'Dad' . That too in front of a large group of guests and reporters with cameras and recorders . Damien had gone as far as to specify that ,yes they were referring to him and not Bruce..

And the second fluke....

Well, Danny wasn't sure how to feel about that one............

... Bruce Wayne,the bachelor billionaire,the man Danny had come to have a huge slight man crush on,...........

Kissed Danny. Right on the lips. On the balcony.

And Danny being a complete idiot had hiccuped then used his invisibility to hide and later run all while forgetting one tiny thing..

He hadn't told the batclan about his secret yet..and honestly??

Danny blames Clockwork.

#dpxdc prompt #dp x dc #Danny is shit at feelings #Bruce has a type #ghostking Danny #this would not leave my head so i kicked it here instead 😁#assistant Danny au #dp xdc crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover

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takamiwife · 2 months ago

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keigo as a daddy 🐣

not that kind of daddy, everyone get ur minds out of the gutters (same)

ANYWAYYY

- keigo had always thought about having kids of course, but reality always hit him quick. he was too busy, and his life was far too dangerous for a partner, let alone a child

- then he met you

- so one became two, and he was happy. truly happy for the first time since he could remember. but guilt and fear wracked him everyday. what if someone came after you? what if, god forbid, he died while on the job, leaving you alone? he couldn’t bear the thought. he dreamed of retiring, taking you, all his money, and buying a big, beautiful house out in the country where you’d grow old together with lots of kids and grandbabies.

- but it was just a fleeting thought. reality always hit. it wouldn’t be fair to anyone for him to have kids

- and then the war came

- and everything changed

- for a while, it seemed like things had changed for the worse

- but things got stable

- things got better

- heroes weren’t needed as much

- the day keigo took his position of president of the hero commission, he proposed to you

- he did it in front of nearly all of japan on live tv. not for his ego, not to get attention or fame, but because he wanted everyone to know how much he adored you

- his life was changing, and he wanted you to be in the rest of the chapters of it

- the two of you quickly settled in to married life. it was just as romantic and passionate as it had been when the two of you were dating; and better yet, you got to spend more time together with keigos new job

- of course he had you quit your job as soon as you got married, and you didn’t mind. you spent your days filled with philanthropy and finding ways to fulfill yourself and your community

- after being two for so long, imagine your surprise when one little stick told you that you’d be becoming three

- things were finally normal, finally stable, especially for keigo. you knew he’d be thrilled. he had always talked about having little ones, but the two of you figured it’d be a “if it happens, it happens” kind of deal

- and you were right, he was thrilled

- the man nearly burst into tears when he opened the small box at the dinner table containing an ultrasound and a onesie

- immediately he began looking at homes outside of the city. “this apartment isn’t big enough for a baby” (it was, but you weren’t going to tell him that)

- the man pampered you throughout your whole pregnancy. he was at every doctors appointment, got your every craving no matter the time of day or night, and made sure you never lifted a finger, especially during your move (much to your chagrin)

- though he hired movers and decorators, he designed and built everything in the nursery

- when he found out you were having a girl, he was even happier. tell me that man isn’t meant to be a girl dad, like cmon

- yea he cried when the baby was born. multiple times. she looks just like you, after all!

- not once did he make you get up to check on the baby at night. he would always do it. he adored her from the moment he laid eyes on her. he was going to be different than his parents. he was going to be better.

- one night, at nearly 2 am, you woke up, and when you went down the hallway, you saw him sitting beside the crib, gently stroking the little hair atop her head. you never told him you saw it

- keigo shows his two favorite girls in the world off wherever he goes. pictures of you and the baby are all over his office, and it’s a rarity to see him in public without you and the baby by his side

- as the baby grows, he only continues to spoil her, giving her all the love and affection he never received. he wasn’t certain of everything, but he knew that she would never question where her next meal was coming from, or ever doubt if she was loved

- her toys would be scattered across his office, he loves bringing her to work

- you two are double trouble for keigo. he can barely say no to you, let alone her. that man’s salary gets put to use, trust me

- bum ass dad? never heard of it. keigo is there for every possible event, from doctors appointments to recitals. he’s there.

- and don’t think he’s forgotten about you. that man lets you know how much he utterly adores you everyday. not just because you made him a father. no, because before all of that, you made him feel loved, and he could never repay you for what you’ve done for him

#bnha keigo #mha takami keigo #keigo takami #keigo x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha

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sofiascripts · 4 months ago

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love in recovery!: the unmanliest of pairs ✧˖° ༯

༉‧₊˚. part two to love in recovery ✧˚ · . bakugou cant stop thinking about you, he reflects on your moments together during the last few weeks and decides hes gotta see you! one problem though, schools are out of session for winter break and he has no idea where to find you. thankfully theres midoriya!

✎ wc: 7946

⤑ tw: not proofread, cursing, also i ended up taking the love at first site route with this so it might be ooc bakugou… </3 or maybe its very in character bc ur just that awesome he couldnt help himself really (it gets pretty ooc at the end, i was struggling but i NEEDED it to end that way so his usual demeanor had to disappear for a sec.)

bakugou was in what he believed was a state of despair. his mind, usually consumed with concerns about hero work and his so-called “publicity problems,” had recently become fixated on something entirely different: you.

it all began when bakugou was enlisted to help out during finals week at his old high school. the hero course students were gearing up for a practical exam against pro heroes. he remembered his own practical exams, which were conducted by his old teachers. this time, however, the school decided to mix things up by bringing in younger, fresher heroes. the idea was to inspire the students and give them a chance to work with their idols, pros they don't get to see on a daily basis. additionally, it provided a great opportunity to boost the young pros' hero rankings–

and it was a nice tax break for the agencies involved.

“itll be nice to roam those familiar halls, and visit our old teachers and our classrooms, where our forgotten youth still lingers.” tokoyami remarked, his voice heavy with a wistful undertone. they all exchange uneasy glances before kirishima placed a comforting hand on tokoyamis shoulder and cleared his throat.

“yeah something like that man– heard midoriya talking about a few new heroes joining in,” kirishima added shifting the focus.

“yeah! heard recovery girl finally retired. the new one’s apparently a cutie,” kaminari said leaning back into his seat with a wide grin.

“she is! izukus invited her a couple times when we met up with our old group,” uraraka said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “she’s got this really warm, friendly vibe. every time ive worked with her, she’s been so caring and attentive. it’s clear she really loves what she does”

“yep! she’s healed me once! she really knows her stuff–her quirk is impressive, shes also got this reassuring presence that makes you feel better just being around her,” tsuyu added with a smile.

“who cares about that kind of crap?” bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. “didnt meet up to talk about some new nurse. what i want to know is what kind of target practice we’re dealing with for the next two weeks."

the group let out a unified sigh as the conversation shifted back to their work. they shared notes from the recent sports festivals and began detailing the students they’d be testing, outlining the quirks and abilities to expect. each pro hero reviewed the information attentively, mentally preparing for the demanding two weeks ahead.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

on the first day of finals, the six pros entered the building, the familiar halls of u.a. stirring memories of their own time as students. the air was thick with anticipation, a mixture of nerves and nostalgia that tugged at their senses. aizawa met them at the entrance, his usual tired expression softened slightly as he acknowledged his former students with a curt nod.

“you’re cutting it close,”aizawa murmured, gesturing for them to follow him. “the students are already in the testing site, so we need to head there immediately”

“apologies, mr. aizawa," tokoyami added, his tone somber. "i feared glimpsing the shadows of our past selves, the echoes we once cast.” his words left the group staring at him awkwardly.

“he missed the bus,” kirishima clarified with a shake of his head. aizawa nodded, already familiar with tokoyamis, interesting demeanor. there was no time for pleasantries or catching up with their old teachers, as they were already running a bit late. the group moved swiftly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the school.

as they rounded a corner, they passed by the infirmary. the door was slightly ajar, and midoriya was leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. he was engaged in conversation with someone inside, his voice carrying a tone of lighthearted teasing that caught their attention.

“yeah, well, let’s hope we don’t run into each other too much today. if the students stay injury-free, you might actually get a chance to relax!” midoriya’s smile was bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

bakugou barely registered midoriya’s words, his attention immediately caught by the soft, warm laugh that followed.

“god, i wish,” you replied with a playful sigh, amusement lacing your voice. “but if these kids are anything like aizawa described you, i’ll probably end up needing help myself.”

as the group walked by, bakugou’s eyes were already peering in, there you were standing in the infirmary, leaning against a counter with a white coat draped over your frame. the crisp, clean fabric paired nicely with the light color of your sundress which fell loosely around you. your arms were crossed casually, and the cheeky grin on your face sent an unexplainable jolt through him.

for a brief moment, bakugou’s mind scrambled for an explanation—had one of these brats used their quirk on him? his palms grew damp, a slight prickling sensation tingling beneath his skin, but he quickly dismissed it, convincing himself it was just the heat of the building, the stress of the upcoming practicals. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.

your eyes briefly met his as they walked past, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. he scowled, turning his gaze back to the path ahead, but the image of you lingered in his mind, seared into his thoughts like a stubborn ember refusing to die out.

“damn brats,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, as they continued on their way to the testing site. but his usual biting tone lacked its usual conviction, the warmth of your laugh still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow felt both familiar and entirely new.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

at the end of the day, bakugou found himself walking down a very familiar hallway, telling himself it was only because this was the way he’d come in. why wouldn’t he leave the same way? his idiot friends were probably lost, trying to find their way out of the school from the testing site, so it only made sense to take this route.

right?

as he continued down towards the front entrance of the school, he just so happened to pass the infirmary.

he noticed two students exiting the room. one of them had a faint blush on his cheeks—probably a reaction to your quirk. bakugou’s mind flashed back to his first time being healed by recovery girl. even though she was an old lady, the awkwardness of the whole process still made him flush with embarrassment. he couldn't imagine how much worse it wouldve been if the healer had been someone like you someone younger.

just then, he remembered the scratch—no, more like a faint slash—on the right side of his forehead.

might as well get checked out while he was here, he reasoned. hed be cursing himself if that damn wound messed with his performance during his shift later. plus, if he was going to be dealing with more students tomorrow, he needed to be at his best.

with that excuse firmly in mind, bakugou took a deep breath and headed towards the infirmary, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened, though he figured it was just the tightness of the quirk nullifying bands around his wrists. it couldnt have anything to do with you.

he stepped in quietly, noticing how you were engrossed in paperwork, likely documenting all the students you’d treated that day. the room was filled with the soft rustling of papers, and the sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. bakugou stood at the doorframe for a moment, feeling like an idiot the longer he stood there. despite his intense glare, you seemed completely oblivious to his presence.

with an irritated huff, bakugou strode over to one of the infirmary beds and dropped himself onto it, the springs creaking under his weight. the sudden noise finally jolted you out of your focus. your eyes snapped up, widening in surprise, and bakugou smirked to himself when he saw your hand tighten around your pen, like you were ready to use it as a weapon against whoever dared to intrude.

“got hit,” he stated flatly, pointing at the cut on his forehead.

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes filled with a playful glint.

from you, his usual scowl deepening. “second, they made me go easy on those brats. ‘course they landed a hit. not like they could keep up with me.” he said, mimicking the instructors’ voices with exaggerated annoyance. “‘told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.”

he grumbled, still irked by the memory. he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. he was totally against going easy on them; he knew firsthand that failure was crucial for getting stronger. it wasn’t about being a jerk—it was about giving them the chance to face their weaknesses and improve. he was pissed off that they were missing out on that important lesson. but he also knew that if he defied the rules, it would only make things worse for everyone. so, as much as it grated on him, he followed the damn rules.

as he watched you move closer to him, he noticed you were trying to hold back a smile, he also saw the glint of amusement in your eyes, which made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. while you inspected his forehead, he felt an odd vulnerability.

he felt your gaze scan his entire body, a mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling beneath the surface as your closeness stirred unsettling feelings. a strong heat rose at the back of his neck, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the wall behind you. when your eyes finally landed on his wrists, you picked up one of his hands and examined it with even greater intensity. your shocked expression was unmistakable, and it was clear you couldn’t hide it.

“they slapped these on too,” he grumbled, gesturing to the heavy weights strapped to his ankles. he couldn't stop himself from trying to show off a little bit more, “said it was to ‘even the playing field.’ whatever that means.”

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. “they really didn’t want you going all out, huh?” you murmured, your tone both curious and sympathetic.

he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me.”

he pointed to the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head trying to hint that he was expecting something. he remembered the conversation with his friends when they were going over the students quirks, someone had mentioned that you were like recovery girl or something, using a quirk that required a kiss to heal. he didn’t get why you had to be so soft about it, but he also didn’t want to look like a complete idiot and ask for it directly.

“what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.”

you stared at him with an odd look on your face. after a moment of silence, you muttered a quiet, “right,” before your lips brushed lightly against the cut on his wrist. the warmth of your touch was unexpectedly soothing, sending a strange flutter through his chest that he quickly shoved aside.

“all set!” you said softly, moving over to your desk to busy yourself with paperwork. he glanced at the mirror, checking the spot where the cut had been. satisfied, he started to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, irritation mingling with curiosity.

“oh, nothing,” you replied, “just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it’s hard to imagine.”

he grunted in response, feeling a rare twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. it was an unfamiliar sensation, and he didn’t know how to process it, which seemed to be a recurring theme in this room.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, “next time, those brats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

you rolled your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. “try not to get hit again, dynamite,” you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. “don’t hold your breath.”

bakugou made his way down the halls toward the front of the building, a strange shift occurring within him as he thought about the odd sensations he’d experienced in your room. he’d always prided himself on being the toughest, most unbeatable guy around—someone who didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or affection. he certainly didn’t care for any of that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff.

but after you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and let out that soft laugh—just like the one he’d heard earlier, but this one had been for him—he felt an unfamiliar warmth. your playful teasing, the way your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze, and the gentle touch as you healed his cut all lingered in his mind. as he walked out the doors of ua, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might actually care about that ‘kind of crap.’

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

after that, he stopped by every day, always after the students were gone. he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about his frequent visits. he was only coming by because it was convenient and you were tolerable. plus, you just happened to be on his way out, so he figured he might as well check in to make sure you weren’t slacking off. with the kids getting roughed up more than usual because of him, it was his duty as a pro hero to ensure the school’s support staff could handle the extra strain.

they had reached the end of the week, marking the completion of the first half of finals. students would rest over the weekend to prepare, as next week the rest of the second-years and first-years would be taking their tests. after that, school would be out for winter break and the young pro-heros would get to go back to working full time.

today, he decided to check in and ensure the infirmary was fully stocked. it wouldn’t do for you to run out of supplies in the middle of finals. he couldn’t focus on his part if he knew the kids wouldn’t get the proper care they needed afterward. so he had to make sure you had everything you needed for the upcoming week.

he marched in with his usual scowl, pretending to inspect the shelves while you stared at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “do you need anything dynamite?”

“making sure youre all stocked up.” he grumbled, refusing to meet your gaze. “don’t need any of these brats whining because you’re out of bandages.”

“oh? you know, i’m perfectly capable of keeping things in order,” you teased, leaning back against the counter with that same cheeky grin that had been haunting his thoughts.

as if on cue, he’d suddenly remember a tiny scratch on his cheek today. they were always minor injuries—barely worth a second glance—but he made a point of showing them to you, as if they needed your immediate attention, always saying something like:

“got a cut on my finger. don’t need a fuss, just make it quick.”

“got a little nick on my palm, just need it wrapped up or whatever.”

“got a scratch here. honestly nothing, but i guess you should take a look.”

you always had something smart to say, today you went with, “oh, look at that,”

after his second visit, your tone began to shift from actual concern to a mix of amusement and feigned concern. “you’ve got a little scrape. better let me take care of that.”

he’d huff, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “just get it over with.”

during his second, third, and fourth visits, you tended to his injury with a regular old first aid kit. you explained that it was better to let such a minor cut heal on its own, emphasizing how small the injury was—something that only seemed to irritate bakugou. you wanted to ensure that his body didn’t become dependent on a quirk for healing, even for minor wounds.

bakugou didn’t argue or ask for any extra attention. he was determined to stay above such petty requests. however, he found that he didn’t mind the touch of your hands, which were gentle and precise. each time your fingers brushed against his skin, he felt a small, unwelcome jolt of warmth, though he never let it show.

but today was different.

today felt like the first day all over again.

he hoped you couldn’t see or feel the heat radiating from him as you leaned in and teased, “so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he instantly felt the soothing effects of your quirk.

“told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice tinged with a forced irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.”

as you leaned back, your gaze lingered on him with an unreadable expression. the soft, ambient light of the infirmary cast a gentle glow around you, accentuating the warmth of your smile. despite the cool air, he felt an intense heat creep to his neck, betraying his attempt to stay composed.

bakugou turned his face slightly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding. mumbling a quick thanks, he tried to regain his composure, his movements slightly stiff as he prepared to leave.

he walks out of your office thinking about how he wished he would have let his friends talk about the new nurse at ua.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou nearly missed his visit today. it was the last day of finals, and his friends were eager to celebrate the end of the grueling two weeks of work. they wanted to head to a café around the corner—a favorite spot from their school days. bakugou had initially planned to meet them there, but they insisted on walking together. this was why he now found himself angrily trudging through the school halls, his frown evident as he moved.

when they stepped out of the school, bakugou abruptly stopped in his tracks. he quickly patted himself down, feigning realization that he had forgotten his phone. he put on a show, acting as if he was in a rush to retrieve it.

after a brief and hurried detour, he found his way back to the infirmary, dashing through the corridors with the same urgency as a student late to class. he slowed down every time he passed an open door, then sped up again, repeating this process until he finally arrived back at the infirmary.

his frustration was already high from the charade, but it reached new heights when he saw you and midoriya together, seemingly engrossed in each other. you were sitting close, helping midoriya upload the practical grades onto a computer. the sight of you two so close, with midoriya’s easy smile and your focused attention, only intensified bakugou's irritation.

he slumped onto one of the infirmary beds, his posture stiff and impatient. he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for you and midoriya to finish what he perceived as an overly affectionate interaction. he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared up every time he glanced at the two of you, his mood darkening with each passing moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” bakugou quickly turned to his childhood friend, his eyes narrowed and his palms began to warm up. but just before he could bark out a reply, you had cut in, “what?”

bakugou’s patience snapped as midoriya’s smirk widened. midoriyas voice dropped to a teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

the words hit bakugou like a punch to the gut. he felt his anger flare, his fists clenching at his sides. he shot to his feet, his voice coming out in a low, threatening growl. “scram, nerd. didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took a step back. he thanked you once more before giving bakugou a teasing smile and walking out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

bakugou’s irritation simmered as he watched midoriya leave. the heat in his cheeks was a mix of embarrassment and anger. he slumped back onto the infirmary bed, trying to shake off the tension that midoriya’s comments had stirred up inside him.

you turned your full attention to him, a small laugh escaping your lips. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over with a calm, collected grace. the way you moved, so assured and at ease, only seemed to fuel his inner turmoil.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, but it was clear there was no bite to his words. he was trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. he was determined not to let you see how much midoriya’s comments had affected him.

and its like the universe was against him because you couldn’t resist one last tease before getting down to business. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you’re after?” the playful glint in your eye made his facade crumble a little bit.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, though he couldn’t entirely hide the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. your teasing, while annoying, had a way of making him feel strangely at ease.

he decided the universe was on his side again when you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his shoulder. bakugou watched you intently, his irritation slowly melting away under the soothing warmth of your quirk. despite his gruff exterior, he always found that during these moments with you, whether you used your quirk or not, the constant pressure he carried with him all day would finally start to ease up.

as you gently pulled back, your eyes locked with his. today was the last day he’d have the chance to drop by like this. over the past two weeks, these visits had become a regular part of his routine. lately, he’d started coming in the mornings and in between his scheduled practicals, under the guise of “checking up on the students he roughed up.”

this would be the final time he could casually walk in and share these small, meaningful moments with you. the thought of missing these interactions left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. before you could say anything, he stood up abruptly, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. without another word, he turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken feelings.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop pause. he turned to face you, the hint of curiosity in his eyes.

you offered him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “be careful out there. won’t be around to patch all those little scrapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his scowl softening slightly as he took in your words. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of your little office for the last time.

the door clicked shut behind him, and as he moved down the hallways, now deserted with all the students gone, he realized that the mess of emotions inside him wasn’t from any damn quirk. on top of that, he couldn’t shake the relentless feeling that he’d regret leaving you behind without finally tell you how he really felt, even if it still confused the hell out of him.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

he was right.

bakugou walked out of his agency with his usual scowl, but his mind was elsewhere. instead of focusing on his next mission, he replayed every interaction between the two of you—how you treated the students and tended to his cuts and bruises. he thought about your caring nature, your teasing attitude, and how your presence seemed to calm him despite his usual irritation. admitting that he missed you or cared more than he let on was still out of the question; he wasn’t ready for that. which is why he found himself in a state of despair.

but it wouldn’t hurt to see you again, he reasoned. after all, he had a sizable cut on his hand from a fierce battle earlier that day—a paper cut from adding more paper to the printer. he blasted his way back to ua high school, his heart pounding for some odd reason.

he rushed up the front steps, frustration barely contained as he shook the door handles, convinced they were just stiff from the cold. as he stepped back, preparing to blast the doors open, he noticed a small sign that read, "winter break has begun—ua is closed." his face fell, disappointment clear in his features.

he completely forgot.

with a muttered string of curses, he turned around, heading back to his agency, his mood darkened by a sense of missed opportunity and lingering irritation.

that same night he nearly looked you up on social media, but decided he was above that–although he had no problems getting purposely ‘injured’ just to see you again. he decided that he needed to talk to you in person. he was not gonna message you on social media like some extra.

though it was painful to admit, bakugou decided midoriya was his best bet for advice, you two were colleagues after all. the two had gone through a rough patch during middle school and their first year of high school, but they’d grown closer after the war. their relationship was like that of brothers, marked by teasing and occasional verbal jabs. and just as midoriya had influenced bakugou, bakugou had also rubbed off on midoriya.

“holy shit, just admit it! admit you like her,” midoriya whisper-yelled, his voice trembling with exasperation as he buried his head in his hands. he’d spent the past hour trying to break through bakugou’s walls, desperately attempting to get his childhood best friend to confess his obvious feelings for you.

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” bakugou replied with a dismissive shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning indifference, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. the muscles in his jaw tensed as he tried to maintain his composure, but even he could feel the cracks forming in his facade.

midoriya looked up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “you’ve got to be kidding me, katsuki. you dragged me out here to talk about her. it’s written all over your damn face.”

bakugou’s eyes flickered with irritation as he let out a low growl, his voice rising slightly in response to midoriya’s persistence. “seriously, what’s your deal with this lovey-dovey crap?” he snapped, leaning forward so forcefully that the chair creaked under the pressure.

“i came here to hang out, not to spill my guts about feelings, and the only thing written on my face is— ”he paused for dramatic effect, pointing to his left cheek,“—number,” he pointed to his right cheek, as if marking the spot. “—one!” his voice rose in defiant emphasis, though the strained expression on his face revealed just how much he was trying to keep his composure.

midoriya’s gaze sharpened, a mix of irritation and amusement dancing in his eyes. but before he could respond, bakugou cut him off sharply.

“i also didn’t drag you anywhere!” bakugou snapped, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “you came here on your own.”

“so—” midoriya began, but bakugou was already back on the defensive.

“but if you’re so damn desperate to talk about her, then go ahead. i won’t stop you” bakugou interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he glared at midoriya.

midoriya couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that? you’re just making it more obvious that you care.”

bakugou’s expression suddenly shifted. He stared at his friend, frustration and resignation mixing in his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’d finally decided to let his guard down. “damn it, fine,” he muttered, the words coming out in a mix of defeat and reluctant honesty. “i thought it was just her quirk at first—you know how it works, right? you had that old lady’s lips on you all the time. figured i was just feeling awkward from the situation.”

midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, her quirk—”

“hold on, i’m not done,” bakugou snapped, cutting him off abruptly. “after that, she started taking care of me without using her quirk. like, really looking out for me, making sure i was okay. that’s when i figured out it wasn’t just her damn power messing with my head. it’s her. it’s the way she talks, the way she looks at me, the way she gives a damn about people. the more we talked over the past two weeks, the more i realized…i actually give a shit.”

midoriya’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted by both of their phones buzzing with an urgent alert. they both glanced at their screens, and midoriya’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“shit,” bakugou muttered, grabbing his jacket. “they need all pros in the area.”

midoriya nodded, his face set in determination. “we’ve gotta go. now.”

“yeah,” bakugou agreed, already heading for the door. “we’ll talk later.”

they both slammed some cash down onto the table before rushing out of the café, the urgency of the situation taking over. bakugou's thoughts about you and the emotional revelations would have to wait; their immediate priority was to respond to the villain attack and protect the city.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou limped through the bustling emergency room, his face twisted in pain and frustration. he tried to ignore the nagging sense of vulnerability that came with his injuries. that stupid villain had managed to pull a fast one on him, landing a nasty hit before bakugou practically blew him to bits.

midoriya, being his usual self, had quickly suggested that the best treatment for bakugou’s injuries was at the very hospital where you volunteered, an effort to have you guys see each other again. normally, bakugou would have avoided causing a scene in a hospital, preferring to get patched up at his agency instead. however, midoriya’s persistence and his offer to handle all the paperwork made it difficult for bakugou to refuse.

he sighed as he let kaminari, sero, and kirishima come along with him, clearly annoyed but determined not to let midoriya’s plan fall through. as he trudged along.

the chaotic hustle and bustle of the emergency room was in full swing, a symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and urgent conversations. nurses and doctors moved briskly, attending to patients with practiced efficiency. bakugou’s irritation only grew as he was directed to sit and wait for some doctor anderson.

“i’ll wait,” bakugou growled, clenching his jaw. “i want the best of the best. that means ms. y/l/n.”

the medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, trying to balance their duties with the stubborn hero’s demands. “she’s just a volunteer here, and she already has quite the list,” one of the doctors said, attempting to reason with him. “we really need to—”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you questioning me?!” he snarled, his voice thundering through the corridor, shaking the air with its intensity. the staff, taken aback by his explosive temper, quickly scrambled to comply, knowing better than to argue with him.

with a flurry of activity, they stabilized bakugou’s injuries as best as they could under the circumstances. the urgency in their movements betrayed their anxiety over his demands, but they managed to prepare him for your arrival.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

you moved quickly through the halls of the hospital, your heart racing as you had just received word that pro hero dynamite had just been admitted, and had demanded you to be the one to help him. you had a aching feeling that it wasn't for another scape. you spotted a group of familiar faces clustered together just outside bakugou's room. kirishima, kaminari, and sero were chatting animatedly, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and occasional glances toward the door which gave you a small sense of relief.

“seriously, this is just karma,” kaminari said with a thoughtful frown, peering up at the ceiling as if searching for divine answers. “he was coming to recovery girl for every little scrape, it was so obvious he was trying to get an excuse to see her.”

“yeah,” sero chimed in with a smirk, “ bet you he was milking those tiny injuries just to get a little attention from her.”

kirishima laughed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “he probably thought if he kept getting those little nicks and bruises, he’d get a chance to talk to her more. pretty clever, but also so very unmanly.”

their laughter and commentary were a strange mix of sympathy and light-hearted teasing. you found yourself frozen in place, hiding just out of sight as you overheard their conversation. the realization hit you hard—bakugou’s frequent visits and seemingly pointless injuries had been his way of getting close to you.

swallowing hard, you took a deep breath before making your way toward bakugou's room. you quickly greeted the pro heroes offering polite nods before pushing through the door. your hands began to sweat, nerves getting the better of you as you creaked the door open.

inside, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with concern. his condition wasn't as dire as you’d feared, but it wasn’t exactly good either. instead of the usual tiny cuts and small bruises you were accustomed to, bakugou had a deep, painful-looking gash on his side. it looked serious, though you could tell he was trying to downplay it.

he turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes barely open but trying to focus. his usual fiery glare was subdued, replaced by an almost vulnerable expression. “hello, dynamite,” you greeted him gently, a playful hint in your voice despite the situation. “thought i told you to be careful.”

bakugou's lips twitched into a weak, smile. “told me not to get any small ones, think i listened pretty well,” he joked, though his voice was strained.

you gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded as you noticed his vitals starting to waver on the monitor beside him. the steady beep of the heart rate was becoming irregular, and your concern spiked.

without hesitation, you activated your quirk, letting your hand hover over the deep cut on his side. the air seemed to crackle with energy as you focused intently, channeling your power to heal the wound. bakugou watched you with growing shock, his eyes widening as the extent of your quirk became apparent.

as you worked, you kept your focus on the healing process, determined to stabilize him. his expression of surprise and awe. despite the situation, you felt a pang of satisfaction seeing the wound slowly mend under your touch.

the room was filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmurs from the pro heroes outside. you could feel the weight of the room’s concern, but you pushed through, driven by the need to get bakugou patched up.

finally, after a few tense moments, the monitor’s beeping steadied and bakugou’s breathing became more even. you pulled your hand away, your energy slightly drained but relieved that the worst was over for now.

bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and despite the pain, there was something almost tender in his eyes. “thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you offered him an awkward smile. “just doing my job.”

the two of you sat in an awkward silence, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him while you stared at the sheets. you got up, slowly preparing to say goodbye.

“so... your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s, huh?” bakugou blinked slowly at you, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

you nodded, your expression growing more serious. “yeah, it’s not.”

bakugou’s expression hardened, his voice sharp. “why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think i’d have to see you again,” you admitted, frustration creeping into your voice. “and you’re not exactly the saint you pretend to be, either,” you added, your face flushing as you turned towards the window.

bakugou’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning slightly pink. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you kept coming to me with those tiny scratches. you never really needed my help; you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“are you out of your damn mind?!” bakugou roared, his face flushing deeper with anger. “i was using my resources to stay in top shape, alright? nothing more, nothing less!”

“top shape—who the hell talks like that?!” now you were a dark shade of crimson, your face blazing as the argument escalated. “bakugou, just admit it already!”

“there’s nothing to admit! how about you admit you were just waiting for an excuse to kiss me, you perv?!” bakugou’s voice rose, his face now a deeper red, frustration clear in his eyes.

“what?! don’t try to twist this around on me, you little shit! you’re the one who kept stopping by for the most ridiculous reasons—half the time, i didn’t even see anything wrong!” you shot back, your anger matching his.

“and yet you still acted like you wanted to kiss me, you damn freak!” bakugou’s face was now a deep shade of red, his embarrassment and anger mixing in equal measure.

“what?! i’m not a freak! you’re the freak! you just barged into my office and pointed at your cheek. who assumes something like that? if anything, you’re the perv for thinking healers just go around kissing people!” you exclaimed, your frustration peaking.

“that shitty little short circuit said you were the new recovery girl??” bakugou snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“i am? doesn’t mean i have the same quirk,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

“well, you should’ve just said that’s not how your quirk works from the start!” bakugou growled, his tone defensive, his face still flushed.

“and you wouldn’t have blown me to bits. you were so damn confident when you just pointed at that tiny little scratch! i was just trying to protect myself!” you said, your voice rising in frustration as you turned away from him.

“oh, you’re really pushing it—” bakugou began, his anger barely contained, but he was cut off by kirishima barging into the room.

“sorry, but you’re both being unmanly right now.”

“stay out of this!” you both yelled, turning to the pro. he simply sighed and walked out, shaking his head and muttering about how things were just getting more unmanly by the minute.

there was a long pause as both of you sat in the silence, the weight of the room’s emotions settling around you. the air felt thick, charged with the intensity of the argument and the vulnerability that had emerged. bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more introspective. his shoulders relaxed, and his voice took on a quieter, more tentative tone. “didn’t really need your help then,” he said, the words laced with an awkward honesty that caught you off guard.

“i know,” you replied taking a seat at the edge of his bed, your own embarrassment matching his. you took a deep breath, feeling the fight drain from you as the truth settled between you. the tension in the room shifted, morphing from anger to something more fragile and uncertain.

another moment of silence stretched between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“bakugou,” you started softly, searching for the right words. your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him. “i like you,” you confessed, the words slipping out with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark scowl. “had a feeling,” he grumbled, his tone a blend of annoyance and something softer beneath. “took you long enough to admit it.”

before he could react further, you reached out and gave him a playful yet firm slap on the arm. your face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “what was that for?” bakugou exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you’d hit him, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation.

“don’t act all smug,” you shot back, your voice laced with indignation. you’d just confessed your feelings, and instead of offering a heartfelt response, the idiot in front of you had simply said he knew. it was like he didn’t even grasp the weight of what you’d said.

bakugou’s scowl faltered as he looked at you with an unusual hint of vulnerability. his gaze dropped to the floor, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. it was clear he was struggling; he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings or dealing with someone else’s, and it showed.

when he finally looked back up, his expression was serious, but you noticed a rare softness in his eyes. “alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff but edged with an awkward sincerity that seemed out of character for him. “i like you too. a lot. more than i probably should.”

as you both sat there, basking in the newfound honesty between you, the tension began to melt away. bakugou let out a deep breath, and you could see the muscles in his shoulders relax. a comfortable silence settled in, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. for now, there was no need to rush or worry about what came next. you simply savored the moment, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment.

after a few moments, bakugou shifted slightly, a small, thoughtful look crossing his face. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain meds or the weight of your confession, but he was starting to feel a bit bolder than he had been. breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “ya know,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of his usual gruffness, “i’m still in a lot of pain.” he paused, watching you, as if he was testing the waters for your reaction.

you looked at him, puzzled. “what are you getting at?”

“well, we don’t know for sure if your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s,” he said, leaning in slightly. “ worked pretty well last time.”

you tilted your head, catching on to his subtle hint. “oh, so you’re suggesting that my quirk might work better if i used it the way recovery girl does? you know, with a bit more—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—personal touch?”

a soft smile spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours. “something like that.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “well, if that’s the case, i’d better go check on your friends then. they might need some help too, after all.”

before you could move, bakugou’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. his eyes softened slightly, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in his gaze. “hey, don’t be a smartass,” he said, pulling you closer. “just... stay here for a minute.”

your heart skipped a beat as you were drawn into his personal space. you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. his expression was earnest now, the playful facade giving way to something more genuine.

“bakugou?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly.

you could feel the tension between you, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. his gaze was fixed on your lips, his intention clear even if unspoken. the moment hung in the air, charged with the possibility of a kiss.

finally, with a playful smirk, you tilted your head and teased, “i suppose if you’re still in pain, i should take care of that.”

before you could react, bakugou closed the distance between you. his lips brushed against yours in a warm, gentle kiss. it was soft and sweet, carrying a surprising tenderness that left both of you breathless. the kiss was fleeting but filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. as he pulled away, his smirk was replaced by a genuine, tender look. his eyes searched yours, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted with his usual fiery demeanor.

you blinked, still processing the kiss. with a shy smile, you asked, “feel better?”

he quickly buried his face in the side of your neck, causing you to giggle. "yeah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel him slowly start to smile against your skin, "better."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tagslist: @kirikiss @ah-mya @terralupa @purplebirdds @semiji ᐢᗜᐢ

♡ a/n: haha ember refusing to die? yk whos embers died… also haha reach out????! also sorry for the ooc at the end. i just needed that no lie... :D also part of me wants to do a part 3?? but just a bunch of random drabbles of you both getting together and your relationship 🤗

꩜ fr a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT POSTS LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING <3 LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I PUMPPPPED THIS CHAPTER OUT AS MY WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #dynamight #bakugo katsuki #kacchan

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caffeinewitchcraft · 7 months ago

Text

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

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(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them? Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

#my writing #the hero and hope #fantasy writing #writeblr

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